


Whims of Fate

by dorkpatroller



Category: Fire Emblem: Kakusei | Fire Emblem: Awakening
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Commission fic, First Meetings, M/M, owain tries to flirt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-13
Updated: 2017-04-13
Packaged: 2018-10-18 13:57:45
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,068
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10618362
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dorkpatroller/pseuds/dorkpatroller
Summary: Owain woke up in the hospital after his accident and he was met with an actual angel.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [iavenjqasdf](https://archiveofourown.org/users/iavenjqasdf/gifts).



> A short and sweet little commission fic for https://iavenjqasdf.tumblr.com because udobore needs more love. Thank you so much for commissioning me! :)

The nurse is the one Owain wakes up to. His eyes are bleary for a moment… and then he comes into focus. He’s an angel. The horrible florescent hospital lighting behind him and the smell of disinfectant don’t do him justice, but it does make a makeshift halo. Owain has always been a firm believer in signs. This is his guardian angel and he needs to be recognized as such.

Owain tries to lift up his arms to gesture to him. Instead, he barely lifts them at all and his words aren’t half as loud as he intends. “Hark! A hero,” He has to stop to cough. The nurse rolls his eyes.

“Tell me yer name,” He says. “And t’day’s date.” He’s handsome. Not that Owain really spends that much time admiring the beauty of men but _this man_ is not ordinary. He’s an angel, as previously stated.

“Owain. April 12. Or 13? Is it tomorrow yet?”

He cracks a smile and Owain’s heart flutters a little. Cute boy smiled at him. He shakes his head no. “Still t’day. You remember what happened to ya?”

“I think,” Owain starts. He bites his lip. Ow—that’s tender. “I think I had a run in with a car.”

“Yeah, ya sure did. You flipped right over the windshield. Lucky to be alive. Lucky ya ain’t hurt more. I’m impressed.”

Owain watches him start checking his vitals. He takes his pulse, listens to his breathing, and he makes notes of everything on a tablet. “My name,” He says a moment later, “Is Brady. I’m your nurse t’night. Ya need anything ya just gotta push this button riiiiight,” He reaches out and touches Owain’s hand. No, he takes it, and he guides it to the button on the side of the bed. “Here. We called yer mom. She’s on her way, said it would take a few hours yet ta get here.”

“Brady,” Owain repeats the name and it feels distantly familiar. Probably because this is some kind of fate. It has to be. No one wakes up to a glorious, handsome man without it being fate. That’s just not how epic stories are told.

“Don’t go fighting anymore cars,” Brady says before he leaves.

…

He comes back later to check on Owain again. Brady, that is. Owain is in a much more clear state of mind now that he’s been awake for an hour, but he’s still _very_ good looking. Owain clears his throat. This time he won’t mess up.

“He arrives! And who is this hero, a healing man? It’s—“

“Brady.” He says. He tilts his head nervously. “Did ya forget? Ya had a concussion, but if yer havin’ memory loss…”

“Er—no.” Owain blushes. He turns his eyes to look over at the television instead. Two strikes for Owain, it seems. “I was trying to make your entrance more… grand.”

“Huh.” Brady shrugs and sits down on the side of the bed. Owain makes a tiny noise of protest because he’s sore everywhere. Brady puts the back of his hand on his forehead. Owain blinks at him. “Don’t feel warm. Ya sound delirious.”

“Um,” Owain protests in a softer voice. “No that’s… just the way I talk.”

Brady studies him for a minute. No doubt admiring the blush. Is that why he felt for a fever? Is Owain’s face alarmingly red? That only serves to make him blush harder. “Are ya feelin’ alright?”

“A bit out of my element. I’m used to winning my battles.” Owain admits softly. “Most of them are written word, however and not… with cars.”

Brady laughs. Oh, it’s a good laugh. It makes Owain feel fuzzy and good and warm inside. This is clearly fate. This is his soulmate. He’s met him in another life, this is _destiny_. “Ya have battles often?”

“Writing is full of inner demons.” Owain grins at Brady and good gods, he smiles back. Are they flirting? Successfully? Owain can’t say he’s done that before. Wait—is Brady flirting, or humoring him? “I think I could take you in a prose-based fight.”

“Yeah? Ya know, you’d probably whoop my ass in any fight. I ain’t as strong as this manly set of scrubs makes me look.” Brady jokes. Jokes! He’s definitely flirting. Owain is definitely crushing hard.

“I might let you win.” Owain breathes it out overlapping with Brady standing up from the bed. The noise the bed makes swallows it up, and he doesn’t think Brady heard it. _Good_ , because it was a cheesy thing to say. He can do better. Next time Brady comes in here, Owain thinks, he will be prepared.

…

“Mornin,” Brady stops in the morning after with a paper cup of coffee in his hand and a smile on his face. “Doc says yer goin’ home in an hour. Excited?”

“Very,” Owain says.

“My shift’s over now,” Brady says. He steps closer to the bed and sits again. This time it is just a bit less sore when he does. Owain looks at him expecting him to check his pulse or something. Instead, he passes the coffee cup to him. “Brought ya some tea. My ma makes this blend. Good for sore muscles.”

“O-Oh!” Owain could curse himself. Why should he stutter? He’s been planning to be bold! He wants to see Brady again, beyond just these white, boring walls! “Thanks.”

Brady shifts kind of nervously. Owain isn’t sure why, until he looks at the cup a little better. There it is, in tiny print. Very precise. His name, and a phone number. Owain opens his mouth and starts to gasp. Brady stands up.

“Right. Well, I’m goin’. Feel better.”

He gave him his number! And he wrote _Fight Me_ on the cup! It’s the most absurd, adorable thing Owain has ever seen and he can’t believe he didn’t think of it first, honestly. “Wait!” Owain calls. Brady hesitates and looks back at him from the doorway.

“I’ll text you,” Owain says, and for the first time all day his voice is confident as it should be. “Next time we meet, I won’t be weakened!”

“Right. Next time.” Brady blushes. He’s gorgeous. An angel, just as Owain thought. “Stay safe, got it? See ya later.”

“See you soon.” Owain corrects, as he goes. Soon, because Owain is absolutely certain. This is meant to be more than a chance encounter. This is a whim of fate. 

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! Please consider visiting my patreon or commissioning me! 
> 
> http://www.patreon.com/dorkpatroller
> 
> http://dorkpatroller.tumblr.com/tagged/writing-commissions


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